Sharp Objects
by Fred-Weasley-Isn't-Dead
Summary: Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel are hiding secrets from their friends. They're cutters. Its up to Mercedes and Blaine to help them to stop. That is, if they can.
1. Top One Hundred

Rachel Berry walked into the choir room in an outfit no one thought she'd be caught dead in. She was in a white spaghetti strap tank top with her signature gold stars on the front, her arms bare with the hair raised on end. She was cold and they all could tell. She had a blue tint about her and her teeth were chattering. She sat in the dead center, like always; across from Mr. Schue was writing on the white board by the piano '_Modern Hits'_.

"Alright guys, this week will be all about top one hundred songs. It doesn't have to be currently on the hit list, just keep it to after 2005, alright?" Schue stopped when he saw the girl in front of him. "Rachel?" Every head in the room turned towards her, even Brittany's after a few seconds of scanning the room for her. Mercedes', on Rachel's left, breath hitched and her eyes widened. "Would you like to go get a jacket?"

"No thanks, Mr. Schue. I'm perfectly fine." This was total bullshit because everyone could tell she was not perfectly fine.

"You sure Rache?" She nodded confidently. "Okay." He shrugged it off but kept a close eye on her, just for safety's purposes.

Mercedes unthinkingly lifted her hand to Rachel's arm and ran her hand over the angry red, raised patches of skin. "What-what happened to you, Rachel?"

Rachel looked down at her arm, almost as if she'd forgotten the scars were there. _As if._ "Oh, that? My cat scratched me."

"Must've been pissed." Mercedes nodded knowingly. Her cats often made people think they were cuts and she was depressed.

"Yeah." Rachel agreed numbly. The fact that Mercedes bought that piece of crap lie made her want to cry. She believed the cuts came from a cat. Even when just last week Rachel told her and Kurt she was allergic.

-x-

Mercedes flopped down on her bed and opened up Skype. She had a bad feeling about Rachel that she needed to discuss with Kurt. "Hey, white boy!" She smiled broadly at her friend. She noticed Blaine in the back ground, his hair not in its usual neat curls and straightening his Dalton jacket guiltily. "Hey Blaine!" She called back to him. He gave a wave in response, his cheeks an unmistakable shade of pink, a few hues lighter than Kurt's

"Hey, 'Cedes. How's life over at McKinley?"

"It's pretty good. We're doing top one hundred this week."

"Ooh, sounds fun! What song were you thinking of?"

"I was thinking something Rihanna."

"You should do '_Disturbia';_ you'd so rock that, 'Cedes."

"Yeah, I guess."

"What's wrong?" Kurt's eyes widened a millimeter wide and Blaine popped into the shot, leaning next to Kurt with a similar look.

"Did Rachel say anything about cats last weekend?"

"Only that she was allergic, why?"

"She had a-a few cuts on her arm, said they were from her cat."

"Impossible, she's allergic and as her dads' pride and joy, they'd never get a cat." Kurt shook his head and pressed a thumb to his lip, deep in thought. Blaine wouldn't look into the camera. He obviously knew where this was going.

"Do you think she's, you know, cutting?" Mercedes asked hesitantly, dropping her tone. "I think she might be. Underneath the diva façade, she's kinda a poor soul. I don't think anyone in Glee has cut since…, but you stopped, so."

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he looked around nervously-guiltily. "Well, don't pressure her or anything. She'll let you know eventually. Oh? What was that, Blaine? Dinner? Okay, 'Cedes, gotta go, bye!" He spoke fast so Mercedes couldn't get a word in and closed his laptop.

"Bye?" Mercedes snapped at the blank screen.

"Kurt, its four o'clock. Dinner isn't until six." Blaine reminded suspiciously.

"Did I say dinner; I meant class, my bad!" He was still speaking in the rapid-fire way of his.

"Classes end at three." Blaine crossed his arms. He knew what was wrong. And he wasn't letting it go.

"Maybe you should get a jump on your homework, then. I know how you hate to have to hand it in late." Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him towards the door. He wasn't making much process seeing as Blaine was a hell of a lot stronger than he was, and he was strong.

"Kurt." Blaine started gently, trying to break off Kurt's incessant rambling. "Kurt." He tried again, futilely. Kurt was muttering something about goat cheese now. Blaine wasn't sure he wanted to know how he built a bridge from homework to goat cheese. "Kurt!" He shouted, practically demanding attention.

Kurt stopped trying to drag his boyfriend out the door and looked at him blankly, like he was unaware of his incoherent sentences. "What?"

"Let me see your wrist." Blaine ordered softly, grabbing Kurt's forearm and rolling up the sleeve of his Dalton jacket. No scars on the right arm. "Next." He murmured, pushing the sleeve of his jacket up on the opposite arm. Still nothing. "Jacket off." Kurt complied. Blaine inspected his shoulders and upper arms for scars. "Pants."

"What the hell-no."

"Humor me." Blaine asked dryly.

Kurt shrugged out of his khaki's and stood there in all awkwardness as Blaine circled him, looking for cuts. "Told you there was nothing." He pulled his pants up.

Blaine didn't get it. Mercedes said Kurt used to cut. But he just couldn't figure out where. He would swim with them, with his shirt on. He was insecure. About what, though? "Shirt off." He commanded. Kurt gulped, the total giveaway. Blaine helped him out of his shirt and gasped, running a hand over his boyfriend's muscular chest. "Oh, Kurt."


	2. The Butterfly Effect

"How long?" Blaine whispered, his fingers lightly tracing each scar. Some were an angry red, as though only a few days ago they were made, which they obviously were. Others were a shiny pink and scabbing. Majority were faded. One, the one Blaine hesitated to touch still had a band-aid covering it with dried blood on the side. He pulled his hand from Kurt's chest and paced the room, looking for what he used. "Razor?" He question softly. Kurt nodded and wiped his blue eyes from the tears forming in hot pains behind them. "Where?"

"Nightstand, second drawer." He sniffled, his voice husky from tears. Blaine reached in the drawer and pulled out a blood encrusted razor.

"How long?" He repeated, handling the blade with care.

"Few months."

"Why?" Blaine was determined to figure this out, why his Kurt would still cut, even after being here.

"Karofsky threatened to kill me if I told anyone about the kiss." Kurt blurted, completely forgetting that he swore himself he would never tell his boyfriend about Karofsky's intimidation. He'd kept his self promise until, oh, about five seconds ago.

"He _what?"_ Blaine screeched at a pitch that should've been far too high for his vocal range.

Kurt squeaked, wiped his eyes once more and fled from the room, or at least attempted to before Blaine had him back around the waist and, kicking and screaming, dragged Kurt back into the room, despite the height difference. Blaine sat him in a chair and stood over him for just a moment before Kurt attempted to escape again, although he didn't get very far because Blaine got him around the waist one more time and threw him as gently as possible on to his bed. Kurt's face was screwed up in fear and nervousness, and he tried to throw his boyfriend off of him but Blaine wasn't easily thrown. He pinned Kurt's wrists above his head and straddled his waist. If Blaine's expression wasn't positively furious and honestly, downright murderous, he would've found this, to be frank, hot.

"What do you mean he threatened to kill you?" Blaine seethed, his breathing ragged and his cheeks aflame.

"After the kiss, he-he cornered me, said if I told anyone, he'd k-kill me." Kurt whimpered, a little afraid of Blaine at the moment.

Blaine shoved himself of Kurt and started pacing the length of the room. "One reason."

Kurt, having regained his composure and wit very quickly, looked at him although he was insane. "One reason for what?"

"One reason why I shouldn't _murder_ him!" Blaine growled, running a hand through his curls.

"Oh my GaGa! Blaine Caleb Anderson, you're not going to hurt him!"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because he is a minor and you are not and you could go to jail for even laying a hand on him." Kurt reminded gently.

"You're a minor, too, but I'm not in jail yet."

"I'm willing."

"So? Going by the law, I should be in jail." Blaine put his head in his hands and moaned. "I'm a terrible person. I threatened to kill a person. I'm dating a minor. I deserve to be imprisoned."

"Sweet Lady GaGa." Kurt rolled his eyes, marching over to his boyfriend and striking him across the face. Soundly. "Snap out of it!"

Blaine ran a hand down his face and shook his head. "Thanks. I needed that."

"I'll say." Kurt muttered. "Listen. Please don't worry about that. I'm here. I'm safe." He whispered, pressing his lips to Blaine's.

-x-

Rachel pulled her laptop onto her knees, leaning against the pillows on her bed. Her arm tingled slightly, a pair of blood-encrusted scissors sat on her desk and a band-aid with blood seeping through on her arm. She opened up Window's Explorer and clicked on her Google toolbar. She typed in, '_How to stop cutting.' _When the results popped up, she clicked on one a few links down. The suggestions ranged from therapy to the rubber band method to the butterfly technique. She clicked on the butterfly technique.

'_The butterfly technique is an effect anti-cutting method. It works by drawing a butterfly on the areas of the body where you cut. Name it after someone you love or that wants you to stop cutting. If you cut, the butterfly dies. If you don't cut, it lives. You can't scrub it away. Good luck!'_

That was all Rachel needed to see. She hopped from her bed, changed the band-aid and grabbed a sharpie from her desk. She drew three butterflies on her body, one on her arm, gingerly avoiding the band-aid, another on her stomach and the last on her leg. She baptized the first one Kurt, one of the Three Divas, the second Mercedes. Even though Rachel wasn't particularly thrilled at the moment with Mercedes, she was still part of the Diva Trio. She paused, sighed and though of one person she could name it after. Pursing her lips, she wrote in careful, slow letters '_Noah.'_ From her bed, the laptop binged. She made her way to the bed, rolling down her shirt as she went. '_Chat request from SensibleHeels.´ _Rachel smiled to herself at Kurt's screen name. She hit accept and watched as Kurt's flushed face filled the screen, Blaine next to him, as usual. Blaine's eyes were giving off a pissy look. Wait, not pissy. Angry. Furious. "Hey, guys-" She smiled into the camera.

"Rache, are you cutting?" Blaine interrupted gently.

The Broadway aficionado's smile vanished. "Yes." She was honest and straightforward. Lying to them would do her no good.

"Why? You're Rachel freaking Berry! You don't take crap from anyone, why would you dish it out to yourself?" Kurt snapped, although he had no place to. Rachel shrugged. She wasn't ready to tell. She wouldn't be for a while. "Well?"

Rachel looked down at her phone, as though she had gotten a text. "Uh, I gotta chat with you later. My dad wants me."

"Bullshit." Blaine called her out. Rachel scoffed at him and shut her laptop. Kurt's voice was audible for just a second before it closed. "I'm sorry for everything."


	3. BandAids

Rachel sat on her bed, tears forming in her eyes. Gingerly, she opened her laptop, making sure Kurt and Blaine were off-line. When she saw that they were set on '_Busy'_, she clicked on her browser and went for YouTube. Without realizing what she was doing, she typed in '_New Directions Don't Rain on My Parade_'_. _When the videos popped up, she turned the sound up, found the full video of her performance and hit '_Play'_. A new wave of fresh tears sprang up behind her eyes. Why couldn't she be _that_ Rachel, the one in the video? Why couldn't her voice be loud and confident, her audience in awe, like the one from the clip of what seemed so long ago? It had taken a toll on her and everyone could tell. She wasn't fighting for solos anymore but Mr. Schue still gave them to her. He and the rest of the New Directions could tell her enthusiasm was fading and she wasn't putting nearly as much effort into them. It was affecting their performances. At the rate she was going, they wouldn't even place at Sectionals this year. It wasn't like anyone in Glee could just go up and hug her. She and Finn had broken up, Mercedes had been distant ever since Kurt transferred and she had no one else at Glee. Sure, they were _friends_ but not the type that would sleep over your house, or the kind that at lunch together. They were just friends inside Glee. Puck was the only one who wouldn't take her piece of shit excuse but he just wouldn't confront her about it.

And she hated it. She hated her lack of friends and the fact that no one would even step up and berate her for cutting. Because, let's face it, _everyone_ in Glee knew the cuts on her arm didn't come from a cat. They never bothered to uncover the Rachel hidden behind the preppy, pink and perfect one they saw at school. They believed her fake smile. They never would've guessed that under it was a Rachel who liked to head-bang to Asking Alexandria and Alexisonfire, that learned all the cords on electric guitar to all the Deaf Havana songs. Without realizing it, her fingers lifted to the keypad and scrolled to the search bar, typing in her favorite song. When the links popped up in dozens, she clicked on the music video and waited for the music to start. The lyrics brought the tears prickling behind her eyes go trailing down her cheeks. Oh yes, she had found her song.

"Hey Rache?" Her dad called up. "I'm going to the store, do you need anything?"

"Band-aids." came her choked response.

-x-

Blaine paced the length of his room with his hands clutching his overly-gelled curls. Wes watched him with concerned and somewhat amused eyes. "Dude, what's wrong?" Blaine simply shook his head, ignoring the question. First Kurt and then Rachel. His friends were falling to pieces. A vibration against wood startled both Dalton boys. Wes and Blaine turned their head to see Blaine's BlackBerry pulsating against the shared night table. Wes reached across his bed and grabbed it. "Some chick named '_Mercedes_'."

Blaine's eyes lit up. He'd been meaning to call her. "Toss it." Wes tossed the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Blaine."

"Mercedes. What's up?"

"I've been texting Kurt but he won't answer. I've called him a lot, too."

"Hang on a second." He muttered into the phone before shooing Wes out of the room. Wes rolled his eyes before muttering something about moving in with David. Blaine locked the door behind him. "Okay, I'm going to tell you something. You cannot tell this to _anybody_. I wouldn't even know if Kurt hadn't slipped up."

"What's wrong?"

"Swear." Blaine demanded. "Swear that you will not tell this to anybody. I don't care how you react; this. Stays. Private."

"I swear I won't tell anyone. Now _what's wrong?"_ She repeated.

"…..Karofsky kissed Kurt." He winced a bit, waiting for her reaction.

"What the hell?" She mumbled. Blaine could imagine her dropping whatever had been in her hand besides the phone.

"It gets worse."

"Oh God."

"He threatened to kill him if he told anyone." Blaine's instinctual reaction was to hold the phone away from his ear before the screaming started. Nothing could be heard coming from the BlackBerry. He cautiously put the phone next to his ear to hear only heavy breathing. "Mercedes?"

"I'm gonna kill him." She whispered.

"Mercedes." His tone had warning in it.

"I'm gonna kill him." She said again. Her tone was cold and set. She truly would murder that boy.

"Mercedes! Breathe." He commanded. He heard her taking deep breaths through the phone.

"What are we gonna do about it?" She asked when she finally cooled down. "Intervention time?"

"Intervention time." Blaine agreed. "Can we do it on Friday? After Glee and Warblers?"

"Eight-ish?"

"Yeah. Don't tell Kurt you're going. Rachel doesn't know about Kurt's cutting?" It nearly killed Blaine to say Kurt and cutting in the same sentence.

"No. I'm the only one from New Directions that knew."

"Okay. Friday, Breadstix at eight?"

"Sounds good."

"Bye Mercedes."

"Later Blaine." She pressed the end button.

Blaine flopped down on his bed, tossing his phone on his desk before he did so.

"Blaine!" Came Wes' muffled shouts through the door. "Open the damn do, Anderson!"

Blaine groaned in response at him and threw a throw pillow at the door. "Sleep with David tonight! His roommate is on vacation."

"Fuck you Blaine."

"Love you, too, Wes!"


	4. Cancer

Artie went first, with Brittany at his side. He held a microphone in his hand while Brittany brought a pink bedazzled one. The music started. "_My first kiss went a little like this…" _After this Rachel tuned out. 3OH3! was okay in her opinion, but she really wasn't a fan.

Her fingers tapped idly. She was just waiting for her turn. Then it was Quinn, singing '_The Only Exception'_, by Paramore. No one knew if she was singing to Finn or Sam. No one really cared. Santana sang 'Y_ou Belong with Me'_, by Taylor Swift. Then Lauren with '_Paparazzi_', Finn with '_Paralyzer_', Finger Eleven. Sam came up next with '_The Ballad of Mona Lisa_', the new Panic! At the Disco single. At this point, Rachel was starting to think about herself and the number of the day she had left. She wasn't paying attention to anyone anymore. She was lost in thought, her hand reflexively going for the arm she'd cut on. Puck sang '_Hot Mess'_, by Cobra Starship directly to Rachel, his eyes silently asking what was wrong. She didn't notice. When he finished, Tina went up, singing her favorite Flyleaf song: '_Chasm_'. Brittany went up after her, singing the Ke$ha song, '_Cannibal_', the one song that got stuck in everybody's heads. It was Mike's turn with My Chemical Romance's '_Welcome to the Black Parade'_. Then it was Mercedes' turn. The music started. She took a deep breath.

"_What's wrong with me?  
Why do I feel like this?  
I'm going crazy now  
No more gas in the rig  
Can't even get it started  
Nothing heard, nothing said  
Can't even speak about it  
I'm a light on my head  
Don't want to think about it  
Feels like I'm going insane  
Yeah_

It's a thief in the night  
To come and grab you  
It can creep up inside you  
And consume you  
A disease of the mind  
It can control you  
It's too close for comfort

Put on your green lights  
We're in the city of wonder  
Ain't gonna play nice  
Watch out, you might just go under  
Better think twice  
Your train of thought will be altered  
So if you must falter be wise  
Your mind is in disturbia  
It's like the darkness is the light  
Disturbia  
Am I scaring you tonight  
Your mind is in disturbia  
Ain't used to what you like  
Disturbia  
Disturbia

_It's a thief in the night  
To come and grab you  
It can creep up inside you  
And consume you  
A disease of the mind  
It can control you  
I feel like a monster_

Put on your green lights  
We're in the city of wonder  
Ain't gonna play nice  
Watch out, you might just go under  
Better think twice  
Your train of thought will be altered  
So if you must falter be wise  
Your mind is in disturbia  
It's like the darkness is the light  
Disturbia  
Am I scaring you tonight  
Your mind is in disturbia  
Ain't used to what you like  
Disturbia  
Disturbia

Release me from this curse  
I'm trying to remain tame  
But I'm struggling  
You can't go, go, go  
I think I'm going to oh, oh, oh

Put on your green lights  
We're in the city of wonder  
Ain't gonna play nice  
Watch out, you might just go under  
Better think twice  
Your train of thought will be altered  
So if you must falter be wise  
Your mind is in disturbia  
It's like the darkness is the light  
Disturbia  
Am I scaring you tonight  
Your mind is in disturbia  
Ain't used to what you like  
Disturbia  
Disturbia

Mr. Schue clapped his hands. "Alright, lastly we have Rachel. You ready, Rache?"

"Perfectly." She nodded and headed for the center stage, adjusting the skinny jeans she'd chosen instead of her normal skirt, in honor of the song. The music started and she tilted her head down, pushing a chunk of hair out of her face.

"_Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all_

You're sick of feeling numb  
You're not the only one  
I'll take you by the hand  
And I'll show you a world that you can understand  
This life is filled with hurt  
When happiness doesn't work  
Trust me and take my hand  
When the lights go out you will understand

Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  


_Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing  
Rather feel pain_

I know (I know I know I know I know)  
That you're wounded  
You know (You know you know you know you know)  
That I'm here to save you  
You know (You know you know you know you know)  
I'm always here for you  
I know (I know I know I know I know)  
That you'll thank me later

Pain, without love  
Pain, can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Pain, without love  
Pain, I can't get enough  
Pain, I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Rather feel pain than nothing at all  
Rather feel pain!"

Everyone just watched her with their mouths agape, Mr. Schue included. Rachel smiled self-consciously and returned to her seat, wishing she had the Invisibility Cloak from Harry Potter. And she meant the actually cloak, not the one from AVPM, although it would make a good scarf. Kurt would be proud of her for thinking of something fashionable.

"Wow, um, alright. Thank you Rachel." Mr. Schue cleared his throat and straightened his vest before shooting a pointed glance at Santana who muttered in a sing-song voice, "Twelve-step program."

Rachel sighed to herself, rubbed her arm inadvertently and lifted her messenger bag over her shoulder, practically running out of the choir room. She felt a hand grip her arm, not the cut one, and spun around to see Puck watching her with concerned eyes. "Hey Rache?"

Rachel turned around and continued to walk. "Hi Puck."

Puck gently pushed her against the wall and towered over her, his hazel eyes watching her with worry. "What was up with the Three Days Grace?"

Rachel shrugged and tilted her head back to look at him. "Am I not allowed to like them?"

"You know what I meant."

"Sorry." She sneered. "Things aren't exactly going my way right now." She shoved past him and used her index finger and thumb to pull her hair back, sighing.

"Of course." He called after her. "Princess doesn't get what she wants and turns to self-harm. What an attention whore."

Rachel's breath hitched in her throat and turned on her heel, storming back to him. "You wanna know why I'm cutting, Puckerman? Why I'm an 'attention whore'?" His face welcomed her explanation. "I have cancer, you insensitive fuck."

Puck's face went from pissed to apologetic. "Oh, shit, Rache. I-I'm sorry. I didn't know." He ran a hand atop his Mohawk.

"Yeah, no one does. I'd appreciate it if it stayed that way." She snapped before going back the way she came, her head held high.

Mercedes sidled up besides Puck. "What was that about?" She had observed the whole thing.

"I know why Berry is cutting."

-x-

Blaine's phone rang in between class passing. It was Mercedes. He stepped to the side, bringing the phone to his ear, "Hello."

"Hey Blaine, you're on speaker. Puck is here too."

"Noah." Blaine said by way of greeting.

"Anderson." Puck responded.

"Why the middle of the day school call?"

"Rache did her top one hundred song today." Mercedes began.

"Oh?"

"It was _Pain,_ by Three Days Grace." Puck added.

"I don't see the big deal." Blaine admitted, bringing his watch up to check the time.

"Berry is normally all Broadway-happy an' shit." Puck grunted. "Three Days Grace, not her style."

"And…?" Blaine the word out into a question. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have to get to class-"

"We know why Rachel is cutting." Mercedes blurted, cutting Blaine off and effectively silencing him.

"She has cancer." Puck sighed.

Blaine let out a deep breath, running a hand down his face. "Alright. We'll sort this all out on Friday. Noah, I assume you're going to be there at Breadstix, too?"

"Hell yeah. I'm not going to not be there for Berry. Especially when I called her an attention whore."

"Noah!" Blaine admonished.

"I thought she was doing it for attention! Jesus, she's always liked the spotlight." He all but shouted in his defense.

"Okay. Let's just calm down and work this out rationally." Mercedes intervened.

"Actually, I have to go." Blaine looked around at the near-empty hallway, only a few students lingering or running to their class with a frazzled look about them, "I'm gonna be late to class."

"Alright. We'll talk to you soon." Mercedes sighed.

"Hopefully under better circumstances. Bye guys."

Their byes were said and Blaine rushed off to his next class, French.

"Monsieur Anderson, pourquoi êtes-vous en retard?" (_Mr. Anderson, why are you late?)_His teacher, Madame Da Silva, reprimanded.

"Je suis désolé, madame, j'ai laissé tomber mes livres dans le couloir." (_I'm sorry, Madam. I dropped my books in the hallway." _He lied, apologetically.

"D'accord." She accepted his apology ruefully and went back to teaching her French IIII class.

Blaine sighed and pulled out his notebook, copying the notes off the board.


End file.
